DayZ: The Morons Guide to Half-Assing the Zombie Apocalypse
by DeadAliveManiac
Summary: In the isolated province of Namalsk, four soldiers are deployed on a recon mission as the UN plans a decontamination of the area. Their only line of escape fails, leaving them left and forgotten to the residents, living or dead. The group must brave the elements, zombies, bandits, and each other in the hopes of escaping. Or will it be the bite, or bullet, that ends it all for them?
1. Drop Off

**Disclaimer: I am not racist, anti-Semitic, anti-Islamic, or any form of hateful, this is just the sense of humor I have. If you get easily offended or hold onto any principles too tightly, click the back button now.**

The Apache flew through the air of the bitter Russian air, the buzzing filling the ears of four figures hanging out the doors, all dressed in the same camo apparel and helmets, the wind rustling the tops of the trees. The men stared aimlessly at whatever passed, the ground, trees, the occasional bird grinded in the propellers, the same things they had seen for the past hour and a half. Finally, a rare clearing appeared, large patches of blood in several places, several with humans clamoring over them. The men aimed down and cleared the area with their assault rifles, touching down as nothing emerged from the trees.

* * *

In a dark, metal room with a swinging light illuminating it (barely), an elderly woman sat, her hands clasped together as she stared at them blankly. "Dr. Vasilyevich?" an angered voice said.

She broke from her spell and looked at the man, a black man in a beret and military wear adorned with medals. She opened her mouth but closed it quickly, staring at the man. "What happened in Namalsk?"

Her eyes widened at the mention of the Russian state, an island left to fester by the world. The virus they knew as Crazed had popped up in a little village on the island, a small child bitten by an infected dog. Soon, the village turned and wandered into Namalsk's more major cities, panic ensuing and the body count rose dramatically, 85% of the island's population had become infected or killed in a year, the rest continually clinging to survival and shooting at each other like a bunch of animals. The American media covered this in the early months of 2012 extensively. Some reports went on saying this signified the end of the world (further lengthening and increasing the hysteria of the 2012 Mayan Apocalypse), others an act of terrorism by vengeful Chechnyans, conspirators against or for Vladimir Putin, and even some claimed it was remaining fallout from nearby Chernobyl. While the virus has no real known origin or what it is, it is known to be spread through bite and bodily fluids getting directly into the bloodstream.

"Dr. Vasilyevich, I won't ask again." the man said, his Glock on the table.

She sighed and leaned towards the man, speaking, "The virus was not contained, it spread to the other island, we should have blown that damn bridge months ago. The number of zeds could be over 100,000 in the main cities alone, God help anybody in the country sides. One bite…one scratch is all it takes to turn. For now, I say we give no evacs without extensive checkouts and more research on symptoms of infection."

"What about the unit I sent in?"

She finally looked up at him, saying, "We have four flags lying around, right?"

* * *

The men hopped out of the chopper and it immediately took off, the few zeds that had emerged now chased it off into the distance. "So what's the plan?" the oldest of the group said, scanning around them through the scope of his M16.

"We mark this place with a slow-burning flare and come back at nightfall, we're just here to recon this area." the shortest of the group said.

Another one spoke, the tallest of the group, "Something just isn't kosher about this."

"Screw you Scarecrow." said another man, the group chuckling at his discomfort.

The short one dropped the flare and it instantly lit up in the late afternoon light, the group then bursting for the tree line in the direction of a light smoke. Soon, fumbling through the branches and thorns, the men found a stone cottage, the roof sinking inwards but intact. They slid back-first into the wall next to the door and the oldest checked the window, nothing. "Check it out, DAM." he said, gesturing the shortest one to the door.

DAM kicked the door open and ran inside, swinging his Colt Python in all directions, then giving his crew the thumbs up. Immediately, a zed popped out of the room adjacent to him, the wide-eyed crazy look it had terrified him, screaming in a high-pitched voice, "Get it off, help, get it off NOW!"

Scarecrow pointed his double-barrel at it and blasted it, the right side of its head imploding as it collapsed onto DAM, still screaming hysterically. He rolled the corpse off of him, jumped up, and brushed himself off, "Whew, I handled that rather well."

"Dude, you screamed like a little bitch, every zed for a mile could have heard that. Honestly, have you hit puberty?" the other tall man of the group said.

"LITTLE…fuck you, Zivon! How about I slap your shit?!" DAM said, raising his fists in anger.

"I'm sorry, but you must be this tall to fight me." Zivon said, raising his arm well above DAM's head.

"Oh…this tall?" DAM responded, giving a Nazi salute.

"Guys, knock it off, just check the house and let's get back to the field." the eldest said.

DAM grumbled under his breath as they searched room to room, finding canned food, ammunition, and medical supplies. They heard a thump upstairs, followed by another high-pitched scream from DAM, and they met at the stairs. "What the hell was that?" DAM said.

"Probably your balls dropping, finally." Zivon responded.

"Fuck off, you Schindler reject!"

"Who's gonna check that out?" Scarecrow asked.

"I vote Harbinger!" DAM responded, the other two men's hands shooting up in approval.

Harbinger shook his head and slowly walked up the stairs, his M16 strapped in front of him and a trench knife ready in the other. He surveyed the surroundings and signaled the others up towards him, the stairs creaking and thumping with the very conspicuous stomps of the bunch. Harbinger sighed, covered his face, and said, "You guys are the biggest bunch of idiots I've ever had the misfortune of working with, how'd you get chosen for my unit again?"

Unfazed, the men spread out and checked the rooms for the noise, the sun now dying beyond the trees. The bedroom Zivon was in was quiet, but he swore he could feel eyes on him. He noticed the closet next to him and slowly approached it, his hand outstretched for the handle. Suddenly, the wood exploded from the door, a round passing right by Zivon's ear and impacting the wall behind him. He dove right next to the closet and out of the range of fire, Harbinger burst into the room and fired off several rounds into door where the first bullet had emerged, firing off one more for good measure from his semi-auto bursts. A voice spoke, somewhere between elderly and four packs a day, from inside, saying, "You hit me the first time, you dick."

Harbinger flung the door open and a man sat there, blood pouring from his shoulder, gut, and chest, a Mosin-Nagant in his lap. Scarecrow and DAM entered the room soon after the man had been revealed. "Why'd you shoot at me?" Zivon said, rising in front of him.

"I'm not letting you sons-a-bitches take me, not like Lilly." he managed to utter, blood seeping from his mouth.

The men looked at eachother, confused. "Sir, we're American soldiers, we've never been to Namalsk before." Scarecrow said.

The man chuckled, clutching his chest. "Ah, Americans, so you're here to attack me, rob me, and destroy everything and claim it was for my own good? Yeah, way different from the bandits. Well, let me catch you up to speed, we've got our own personal piece of Hell right here. The dead aren't even the biggest threat; no law, no rules, no order, people do whatever the hell they want."

"Who are they?" Harbinger said, the man cocking his gun and getting the aim of all their guns.

"Relax, I'm out. I'm talking about the bandits, they look like the god damn Muslim brotherhood or some shit for whatever reason. They push people like me around and demand supplies; I didn't have what they wanted last time…they killed my Lilly."

"Sir, we can take you back to our base in Paris, we can treat you." DAM said.

The man snapped, "I ain't lettin' you sons-a-whores take me to that death camp, oh no! You won't take me alive!"

He grabbed his rifle and pointed it at his chin and pulled the trigger, blood, bone and brains splattering against the ceiling. The men looked on horrified, DAM finally saying, "You know what's weird, how could a man who most likely lived in Russia his whole life speak English fluently and sound like a guy from the South?"

"Shut up, DAM." Harbinger said, exiting the room.

The men were at the stairs, ready to exit as the glass window behind them shattered, glass flying against them as they hit the deck. "Hey, old man, you're late on your payments again, how about we reintroduce you to your wife!" a man said, his voice heavily Russian.

Angered, Zivon sprung to his knees and aimed out the window with his Lee-Enfield at the man in the dying light and firing, splattering the ground with his brains. "He's dead, and you're next!" Zivon growled.

"Oh shit, is that another group of bandits in there?" they heard them whisper.

"How many do you think are in there?" another said.

"We've got 10 on us now; I think we can take 'em."

"We've got 20 on us in here!" DAM yelled, getting a slap upside the head from Scarecrow.

"Should we call there bluff or what?" another man whispered.

"Better leave now, we're all 6 foot 10 and built like brick shithouses!" DAM yelled again.

"Dude, you're 4 foot and built like a Teletubby." Zivon said.

"I think they're full of shit." the previous man spoke.

"Hey, Americans! How would you like to die, quickly or left for the zeds?"

"You don't have a chance in Hell without at least an RPG." DAM said.

"Oh…you mean like this?"

Seconds later, the wall beside them exploded, wood and rock flying into the house as DAM screamed again. "When will you learn to keep your mouth shut?!" Harbinger yelled, the men ducking down the stairs.

**Well guys, here's the first chapter, hope you enjoyed. As always review, favorite or subscribe to this or any of my other works or me. Thursday: The Hunt for Rebecca Chang begins! Also, sorry this is a day late, I realized now that I uploaded everything 2 days early so I pushed this and DR2 a day back. Otherwise, we're on schedule and ready to go!**


	2. Not Stepping Back or Standing Up

Harbinger herded his troops to the front door, bordering on running or staying to fight. Finally, after looking over his troops and at his own gun's clip, he pushed the door shut and spun the lock, earning an immediate response from DAM, "Wow, that'll stop those crazy bastards!"

"Shut up, Verne Troyer. Alright, listen up troops, here's the plan; Scarecrow stand at this door, your gun has the power to punch through it. Zivon, I want you at any window you can find, keep anybody from coming in that way. I'll get to the stairs and give you high cover. DAM…uh…get the basement, if there is one." Harbinger said.

"Uh, Harbinger, can I switch with Zivon?" DAM asked, his voice showing his anxiety.

"What? WHY?" Harbinger said, baffled.

"I just saw The Conjuring before I left the States."

"SO!?"

"I'm never going into another basement as long as I live, or near another wardrobe for that matter."

"Jesus Christ, why are you doing this now?!"

"I never thought it would be a problem."

"For Christ's sake, your in the god damn army, getting shot at with a god damn rocket launcher by a bunch of god damn bandits, and you're scared of a ghost movie at this moment in time?!"

"Yeah, see you understand where I'm coming from, Sarge. Cut me break, will ya?"

"Just get to the basement and don't get us killed, you pusslet." Zivon demanded.

"Oh, screw off, why don't you go to the kitchen, you'll be more useful there."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, you can do the honor of your ancestors and shove yourself in the oven, if you'd be so kind!"

"Go back to the North Pole you Keebler reject."

"OH, a short joke, how original! Why don't you shove a cactus so far up your ass…?"

"Alright, ENOUGH! Get to your posts now, or I will shoot you all myself!"

The privates rushed to their posts, except for Zivon, who stopped by the basement and flicked the light off long enough to evoke a high-pitched shriek from DAM. Suddenly, silence fell all throughout the house; there were not even footsteps outside the house. Scarecrow looked up to Harbinger, his aim still on the door, before the knob began to turn slowly, barely making a noise. Scarecrow slowly turned to look at the doorknob before taking aim. Just as his finger gingerly pulled the trigger back, a window in the living room shattered, several men yelling and clambering through the broken glass. At the same instant, Zivon was in the doorway of the living room, firing at the intruding bandits, dropping three of the intruders in a pile. "Scarecrow, now!" Harbinger ordered.

Instantly, Scarecrow shot his two rounds at the door, shredding a decent hole through it. On the other side, two men flopped to the ground, buckshot lodged in their chest and neck. The furious bandit leader kicked the door in, firing his AK-47 at Scarecrow as he ducked into the dining room beyond the foyer, "Get him, you idiots!"

* * *

In the basement, DAM was walking around aimlessly, kicking the dust on the cement floor and pulling his pistol on invisible enemies, coming up with different catchphrases for the right situation. He heard the gunfire above and nearly jumped out of his skin, accidentally firing a round out of his revolver and falling onto his back, aiming immediately at the stairs. Suddenly, he heard hurried footsteps heading to the doorway of the basement. He rolled over to the stairs, sliding under them as a man in camo, black boots, and a ski mask came down, a man in identical apparel behind him. "Okay, the boss isn't here, can you light me up?" the first man asked, his hand extended and fingers forming a "V".

The other bandit sputtered, looked around and put a cigarette in his fingers before lighting it. The first bandit took a deep inhale, the end of the cigarette burning a bright, deep red. "Thanks man, much appreciated."

"Yeah, better hope Boris doesn't find us stealing cigs, he'll kill us."

"Don't worry, he's busy up there, he won't bug us."

DAM was now breathing heavy, the sweat seeming to freeze all over his body. The bandits had their backs to him, he had his gun ready, but he could not bring himself to stand. From above he heard the rat-ta-tat-tat of an AK; he knew he couldn't let his teammates down now. DAM slid out from the stairs and snuck up to the bandits his revolver aimed at the smoking bandit. He put the gun to the back of the bandit's head, catching him by surprise and dropping the cigarette from his mouth. "Drop your guns, now!"

The men slid their straps off their shoulders and slid their guns across the floor, holding their hands up high. "We surrender, just don't hurt us!"

"Yeah, we hate Boris, he's an asshole."

"Hey, Smokey Bear, can I ask you a question?" DAM asked, cocking his revolver.

The bandit took a nervous gulp, responding quietly, "What?"

"Who's your favorite president?"

The man took a moment to think before responding, "If I had to pick, I'd say Franklin Delano Roosevelt for his influential diplomacy and…"

"WELL, mine's JFK!" DAM interjected, pulling the trigger and spraying the wall and other bandit in blood.

The surviving bandit looked at DAM in horror, bringing himself to say, "What kind of monster are you? We surrendered, we were unarmed! For God's sake, man, we know you're American and peace isn't your deal, but fight a fair fight, Jesus! I mean, what you think I have, oil?!"

DAM turned his aim to the bandit, adding, "My favorite Vice President is Dick Cheney. Oh look, a pheasant!"

With that, DAM pulled the trigger, sending the bandit went sprawling onto his back and cracking his head on the cement, desperately clutching the blood squirting from his neck. "Oops, my bad." DAM said before kicking the bandit in the groin. "Welcome to Wal-Mart, go fuck yourself." he added, firing another .357 into his forehead.

* * *

Boris attempted to enter first, but Harbinger had fired at him, the bullets striking the side of the doorway opposite of him. Boris ducked back in front of the house, yelling at his troops to enter, pronto. His next troop stormed in blindly, quickly shot through his left side by Zivon. He aimed his shotgun at Zivon, but Harbinger fired several more bullets into his head, coring out a rectangular shape in the top of his head. Harbinger charged down the stairs but Boris and his last man had entered the house, his assault rifle and his comrade's pistol aimed at him. "Drop your gun, now! Tell the same to your men." Boris said calmly.

Harbinger dropped his gun where he stood and slowly raised his hands. "Guys, come out, drop your guns."

Zivon and Scarecrow came out of the living room, their arms raised with their guns in one hand. "Drop them."

They promptly did so and were forced to their knees by Boris' accomplice. "Now, you've taken out some of my best men, but the rest have a good leader to take over the losses. Now, your men are very disciplined, something I need in my troops. But, there is room for only one leader. Nice meeting you…" Boris said, fixing a bayonet to his AK.

"Sergeant Harbinger, and fuck you."

"Oh, how kind of you, now goodbye!" Boris said, bringing his AK back.

Harbinger looked Boris right in the eyes as he thrust his bayonet forward, but before it could tear through his heart, a shot rang out. Boris stopped immediately, shaking as he turned behind him, his own man holding the smoking gun. "Why…"

"Consider this an impeachment." the man said, putting his Tokarev to his forehead and pulling the trigger.

Boris' corpse slumped to the ground before the shocked Americans, the man removing his mask and revealing his long blonde hair and shaggy beard. "Alright, you guys are safe, the rest of us are at the base. I can't honestly thank you enough, we have waited for an opportunity like this for months. Boris has become more tyrannical and cruel by the day, he started executing our own. You can join us if yo like; we're done with what he had us doing."

He extended his hand out to Harbinger, who looked apprehensively at the hand and its owner. Suddenly, the man looked at something behind them, a loud shot rang out, and the men doubled over, a bullet in his gut. Before he could rise up, another shot rang out, this bullet digging through the side of his neck and sending him flopping back, blood spraying and flowing from his wound. The men looked behind them to see DAM aiming his revolver, still cocking the hammer and pulling to trigger to get empty clicks. "What the hell are you doing, stand down!" Harbinger shouted.

DAM blew on the barrel, spun the barrel around his finger and attempted to holster the gun, missing several times before he guided it into the holster. "It's okay, I got two others in the basement, did you get the rest?"

"Yes we did, but why the hell did you shoot him, he saved us, you half-pint jackass!" Scarecrow yelled.

DAM's face took a sudden look of horror, then to grief as he freed his gun. "Private DAM, what the hell are you doing?" Harbinger demanded

"I can't go on, Sarge, I've done unspeakable things, I can't live like this! I'm an animal, I won't last two seconds back in society, I can't, I won't!" DAM said, cocking the hammer of his gun to the shouts of his comrades to stop.

He pulled the trigger, only for another hollow click and his sudden burst of laughter. "You guys are idiots, I'm out, remember?" DAM heaved, reloading his gun.

"Oh, I'm going to kill you, you dumb sack of shit!" Harbinger said, lunging at DAM, trying to break free from Scarecrow and Zivon's grasp.

"Sarge, we can kick his little ass later, but now it's getting dark and, from what I hear, those things like noise, we have to get back to the flare." Scarecrow said.

Harbinger regained his grip, grabbed his gun and said, "Alright men, back to the field!" before charging out the doorway.


End file.
